“How many years have you to go?” (I’m already finished, just started working)

“Oh, are you a doctor?” (No, I just like wearin this white coat with the heavy pockets and hang a stethoscope around my neck)

“Are you 19?” (Yeah, I am. Genius, right?)

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you’re a doctor!” (I’m a 5-year old playing make belief here actually)

(Cute kid here. He kept looking at us and yay! got his picture)

“If you’re 20 years older, I’d go for it” (Go for what?)

*smirk*

*she’s-such-a-kid look*

“So, do you have anyone?” (Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a chef squillionaire. I just feel it liberating to work my derriere off in this place)

“Oh my, your scarf! It’s beautiful! Oh, your brooch! Oh, your bracelet! There’s even an engraving on it? Is that your name? Oh wow!” (My God! Very observant patient)

“I see stars whenever I look down and up.” *grin* “So, how long have you been here?” *grin* “What’s your name again?” *grin* (What’s with all the grinning? Do I have a clown sitting on my head?)

Ah yes, the people I see everyday. At least I know that I’m not prematurely old.

I’m aqcuiring the skills of not laughing while dealing with people here. So far, I have managed to tone it down to slight twitchings at the corner of my mouth, while turning away and looking up at the sky, willing God not to make me laugh.